


Hook, Line, Sinker

by panchostokes (badwolfrun)



Series: Nick/Greg Ficlets [42]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21735553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/panchostokes
Summary: Nick and Greg's first outing to Frank's diner.
Relationships: Greg Sanders/Nick Stokes
Series: Nick/Greg Ficlets [42]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1257824
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	Hook, Line, Sinker

**Author's Note:**

> from an anon on tumblr: how do you think Nick and Greg found their “spot”- their go-to restaurant together?
> 
> ((holy crap this is my 100th fic I've posted!? my goodness))

Nick wanted this occasion to be a special one, but as Brass told him once, “criminals don’t care about our social lives, Stokes.”

He felt bad, having to stand up what had the potential to be a very promising date, and felt even worse as he wasn’t even given the chance to explain that he needed to work a double on a high priority case, where time was up the upmost essence. They would never understand, unless they were in the same position themselves. 

But there was someone who did understand, Greg Sanders, who was equally as tired, as frustrated, as _hungry_ as Nick, as he _volunteered–_ everyone kept reminding him with every complaint that escaped his lips–to pitch in, work a double in partial solidarity to his CSI friends, and also because the day shift DNA tech was on vacation, and had no back-up. 

“I could _kill_ for anything that’s not takeout right now,” Nick groaned as he tossed a stack full of pamphlets onto the glass table before making a bee-line to the coffee pot for his fifth cup of coffee that day.

“What, you miss the bus, Stokes? Catherine said something about hitting up that new sushi restaurant on Tropicana,” Greg mentioned as he leaned against the counter.

“Not a big sushi fan.”

“Why don’t you just go somewhere, then? Like…Frank’s diner, or something?” Greg suggested as he ran through a mental catalog of fast, yet hospitable dining experiences. 

“Eh, by the time I get there and get my food, it’ll be time to go.”

“C’mon, Nick, you and me, let’s go. We deserve the break, all the evidence is pending–you really think Cath and the gang are gonna come bursting through the doors any second?” 

Greg took the coffee cup out of Nick’s hands as he had brought it to his lips, dumped it down the sink. 

“What are you–I was gonna drink that!” he whined, but Greg just grabbed him by the shoulder with an eager smile, led him out the door. 

“Where’s your spontaneity, Stokes?” 

“Out in the dump where I left that poor girl last night,” Nick sighed, his cheeks blushed at the reveal, but maybe it was Greg’s hyperactive eagerness, maybe it was his frustration with the case going nowhere, maybe it was his over-tiredness that made him blurt out what’s been crawling under his skin for the past few hours, letting it out before the kettle blows completely. 

“There’s plenty of other fish in the sea,” Greg told him with an arm around his shoulder, a pat to his chest as they walked to the parking garage. 

“Yeah, you would know cause you’ve caught the entire damn pool, Sanders!”

“Not true. There’s always the one who got away.” 

“And who’s that?”

“Can’t tell you. He’s still on the hook.” 

“He?”

“Yeah, I don’t discriminate, bro. You?” 

“Haven’t, uh…given it much thought, I guess.” 

“Mmm. Keeping that one in the bank,” Greg muttered, pointing to his head, which made Nick laugh as he opened his car door. 

“You’re crazy, Sanders.” 

“One of us has to be,” Greg smiled cheekily. 

They arrived at the aforementioned diner, after they reached a stalemate in the exchanges of “Where are we going?” “I don’t know, you pick.” “No, you pick!” that reminded Nick of his dates back in high school, carefree, giggling, the sensation of being high on a life where their destination didn’t matter, so much as the fact that they were arriving _together._

“See, that’s all I need, a nice, warm plate of steak and eggs,” Nick nodded as he looked at the menu. “Ooh, and chilaquiles! Man, I love this place.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you this excited about…anything. Ever,” Greg laughed into his coffee, having made his decision on his meal, though he wasn’t really here for the food. 

“Who needs girls when we’ve got _food?”_

“Are you implying that food is better than sex?”

“Yes,” Nick deadpanned without looking up from the menu. He let the silence settle for almost a full minute before he broke out into a chuckle. 

“I’m kidding, Greg, lighten up! Got you for a moment there, didn’t I?”

He got him, alright. Hook, line, and sinker.


End file.
